


ix. stranded

by tempestaurora



Series: it's okay, we're okay [whumpvember 2018] [9]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: (But in Spanish), Gen, Peter says Fuck, Plane Crash, Whumptober
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-09
Updated: 2018-11-09
Packaged: 2019-08-21 04:28:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16569671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tempestaurora/pseuds/tempestaurora
Summary: “You know,” Peter said conversationally, despite the situation, “my parents died in a plane crash.”Tony released a harsh breath, turning his head to look at Peter where they laid amongst rubble and ruin on the floor of the forest. “That’s not helping, kid.”Peter hummed his indifference to that statement. “I’m just saying. The died on a plane crash – I never even flew in a plane until Germany – and now look at us.”“We’re not dead,” Tony replied.“Not yet.”





	ix. stranded

“You know,” Peter said conversationally, despite the situation, “my parents died in a plane crash.”

Tony released a harsh breath, turning his head to look at Peter where they laid amongst rubble and ruin on the floor of the forest. “That’s not helping, kid.”

Peter hummed his indifference to that statement. “I’m just saying. The died on a plane crash – I never even flew in a plane until Germany – and now look at us.”

“We’re not dead,” Tony replied.

“Not yet.”

Tony rolled his eyes, sitting up. They’d moved away from the crash site a few hours before and had found a relatively peaceful part of the forest terrain to lie down in. Their bodies were coated in ash and blood, watercolour bruises appearing across their skin. They were hurt – badly, in some cases – and the staff of the plane were all missing or dead. Tony hoped they were found soon, if only because he didn’t know what lived in the forest.

“Let’s not get morbid so soon,” Tony said, surveying the area for any incoming danger. When he was satisfied that he saw nothing, he moved onto his back once more, side by side with Peter. Tony’s left leg was broken without a doubt, and the pain had moved from sharp and splicing to a heavy throb. Peter, on the other hand, had be sliced and torn with the metal of the plane upon landing, and the gashes across his body were beginning to close at last.

Peter’s Spiderman suit was somewhere in the wreckage, and the Iron Man armour had only formed around Peter’s head and legs when the plane hit the trees, the armour scattering suddenly across the cabin.

“I’ve waited a few hours to get morbid,” Peter said, “I think I deserve it by this point. Do you think humans can eat grass?”

“No,” Tony replied immediately. “We’re not staying here long enough to try and fail, either.” He tipped his head to the side, finding Peter already looking back.

“You can’t walk, though,” Peter said. “And it’ll get cold at night-”

“The plane is on fire right over there,” Tony interrupted, keeping his voice light. “It’ll provide more than enough heat.”

Peter sighed. “Do you think we’d be better off in a tree?”

“We’d fall out,” Tony said, moving his eyes back up to the canopy of leaves above them, afternoon sun burning through.

They had been on a trip to Peru for a week; Tony desperately needing some time away from the city and his work and Peter always up for spending time with him. They’d camped for a few nights and spent a few more in a nice woman’s home, where there were uncomfortable mattresses but hot food. They’d gone sight-seeing, hiking, travelled to the ancient Inca citadel of Machu Picchu and Peter had climbed things he probably shouldn’t have when no one was looking so Tony could take photos of him.

It was just supposed to be a way to relax – and they had. Tony had lost the tenseness in his shoulders, had smiled easier than he had in months, and Peter had read every guide book he could find in advance. The two of them spoke good Spanish and had thrown obscure words at each other over dinner tables to see if the other knew what they meant. And Peter had sworn a lot in Spanish, because Tony’s rule was that he just couldn’t swear in English, which Peter took advantage of. Liberally.

It was a good trip. This ending wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

“ _Mierda._ Do you think we should look for the flight attendants?” Peter asked. They’d taken Tony’s private plane there and back. His flight attendants were Stark Industries staff members and Tony repressed a shudder at the thought of what might’ve happened to them.

“You shouldn’t,” Tony replied. “I don’t want you seeing that.”

“What if they’re alive?”

“The pilot wasn’t,” Tony said bitterly. Peter had found the pilot, too, decapitated, the remaining body strewn about the wreckage. Tony didn’t want Peter finding anymore of them like that, but Peter was the only one of the two who could stand.

“They might still be alive,” Peter whispered.

“I know, kid, but that shit won’t leave you. I don’t want you seeing that.”

He watched as Peter struggled and sat up. His gashes were visible through his t-shirt and began seeping more blood with the movement – Tony had done what he could to stop the bleeding and cover them up, but there wasn’t much to be done out here.

“I’m going to check,” Peter said, and Tony let out a huff, pushing himself off the floor.

“Come on then,” he replied, rolling his eyes.

“But your leg-”

“I’m not letting you search a crashed plane on your own, kid. Help me up.”

The struggled and limped together through the trees and back towards the wreckage. Half of the plane was still tangled up in the trees and Tony feared for a big gust of wind, shaking the branches enough to drop it to the ground. The rest was littered about in wreckage, seats here, the bar there. The cockpit, where they’d found the pilot already, was off to the left somewhere and Tony actively steered them away from that.

They searched for about half an hour, Tony taking a rest every few minutes and eventually righting the few seats he’d found that weren’t utterly destroyed, finding them still kind of comfortable, even burned and blackened. Neither of them, however, found any more bodies, and when Peter started aching too much, they dragged the chairs away from the rubble and relaxed into them, staring at the ruin.

“I wonder if this happened to my parents,” Peter said, and Tony had to stop himself from telling the kid how morbid he was sounding again. “I mean, if they died in the plane on impact, or if they were stuck in the area for a while, dying slowly.”

“We’re not dying,” Tony replied.

“I know. But they did.”

“And we won’t. I’m not gonna let that happen to you, alright?”

Peter hummed, shifting in the chair to rest his head against Tony’s shoulder. They stayed like that for a while, ignoring their starving stomachs and the way the light slowly dimmed, the fires beginning to burn themselves out.

“How’s anyone gonna find us?” Peter whispered, and for a moment he sounded so small and scared that Tony took his hand and squeezed it, gentle, before he even realised what he’d done. Neither let go of the other’s hand, though.

“The plane would’ve sent out a distress signal when the engine blew,” Tony replied, quiet. “Then help would be sent to that location. They’ll find us.”

And they did.

It was well past midnight when the lights shone through the tree line, Spanish words yelled into the distance as the search party manoeuvred through the terrain. Peter woke up from his fitful sleep when they did, Tony watching the floating yellow lights draw closer, calling back to them.

“We’re here! _Ayúdanos!”_

They came with stretchers and first aid kits, with police officers who moved through the plane wreckage in search for survivors, with fire fighters to put out the flames and fibre bars in their pockets, pressed gently into the survivors’ hands.

They were carried out of the forest, to an awaiting ambulance that took them to a hospital, where Tony’s leg was x-rayed and casted and Peter’s wounds sewn up, despite how they healed.

It was later, when Tony laid in a hospital bed, Rhodey on his way in his suit, and Peter sitting on the edge of it, playing with some small piece of medical equipment he probably shouldn’t have been touching, that Peter smiled.

“I had fun, you know.”

“When the plane crashed? Because let me tell you kid, that shit was terrifying.”

Peter shook his head. “Peru. The trip. We should go on trips more often.”

“Yeah?”

Peter nodded, then his smile faltered. “It’s probably super inconvenient, but could we not take planes for a while? I don’t really wanna-”

“Yeah kid,” Tony interrupted, not needing an explanation. “We can never step foot in a plane again if that’s what you want.”

Peter nodded, reassured, then nudged Tony to scoot over so he could lie down by his side, eyes still on the absolutely-not-supposed-to-be-touched equipment in his hands. When Peter yawned, Tony felt his muscles relax. He was never sure he’d believed it until he met Peter, but kids were incredibly resilient.

Peter shifted until he was comfortable, his head lolling gently onto Tony’s shoulder, and then shut his eyes.

“The photos on our phones,” Peter mumbled, “they synced automatically to FRIDAY, right?”

Tony nodded, barely. “Yeah, Pete,” Tony whispered. “All our holiday photos are saved, don’t you worry.”

“Good,” Peter replied. “I wanted to show May the photo of me with that llama that didn’t like you.”

Tony snorted. “Sure thing, kiddo. I’m sure she’ll love it.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!! talk to me in the comments plsssss!!
> 
> tomorrow: bruises


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